


What Have I Done?

by olivebranchesandredwine



Series: Unanswered Questions [5]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Canon compliant-ish, Episode: s05e06 Rock On!, Heavy Angst, Introspection, Is it cheating if David told him to do it?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:44:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21594466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olivebranchesandredwine/pseuds/olivebranchesandredwine
Summary: A little speculative ficlet about Patrick and Ken's date in Rock On.NOTE: The show tells us that Patrick “couldn’t do it.”  What if he did? What if he only realized he couldn’t do it after he’d started?
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Patrick Brewer/Ken
Series: Unanswered Questions [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1454548
Comments: 110
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a "what if" and turned into an angst-fest, and now I have finished it. They're gonna be ok, y'all. Let's just assume Ken had a clean mouth, and that everyone is happy and healthy and satisfied in the end.

“Oh my god,” Patrick moaned, giving himself over to pleasure as the head of his cock was enveloped in wet heat and the gentlest of suction. He sighed at the sensation, the back of his head bumping against the headrest, as the soft tongue swirled around the glans and flicked at the slit. _Oh my god._

It felt…god, it felt good. Surprisingly good. Familiar, but entirely fucking different.

Patrick threaded his fingers through soft, dark hair, and found himself fighting the urge to move, to push that glorious mouth further down onto his cock, to tug on that raven hair so that he could fuck up into his mouth. He wanted that; he wanted that so _fucking _much.

Patrick gasped when the head of his cock met resistance, bumped up against the back of his throat. And then Ken swallowed around him.

“Fff-fuck,” was all he could say, his eyes fluttering closed of their own volition, rainbow-colored splashes exploding behind his lids. He was close already, motherfucking goddammit to motherfucking hell. He didn’t want to come yet; he wanted to draw it out.

Ken wrapped his small hand around the base of Patrick’s cock as he slowly dragged his mouth up. Patrick whimpered in frustration when he popped off, but sighed contentedly as he flattened out his tongue and licked along the underside from root to tip.

“You taste good,” Ken’s soft voice was husky as he mouthed sloppily along the shaft, before taking Patrick’s length back into his mouth.

This time, Patrick couldn’t hold back. His hips thrust up into the silky wet heat of Ken’s mouth as he pushed down on the back of his head. He yelped as the corner of Ken’s glasses scraped against the crease of his hip, because holy _fuck _that was different. Good different. He held on to Ken’s head and started to thrust in earnest. Politeness be damned.

God, he was so fucking close.

** _DING DING_ **

The vibration of his phone in his pocket threw them both off rhythm. Ken slid off his cock long enough to ask, “Do you need to get that?” Patrick didn’t want to check it. He wanted to get back into Ken’s throat. He grunted and pushed Ken’s head back onto his dick.

** _DING DING_ **

“Um, yeah…sorry, I just—um, let me take care of this real quick,” he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, intending to turn it off as he saw the preview message flash on the lock screen.

**ALEXIS ROSE: David’s really upset.**

Shit.

The flush overtaking Patrick’s face was no longer simply from lust. His heart was pounding as he came back to his senses. He was suddenly hyperaware that his jeans were shoved halfway down his thighs, his dick flagging awkwardly.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Ken leaned back in the passenger seat—oh _god_, the same seat where David sat the first time they kissed—his face a portrait of confusion as he asked, “Is everything ok?”

“I’ve got a boyfriend. This was a mistake. I’m sorry,” Patrick’s eyes were stinging, and he covered his face in a useless attempt to hide—from Ken, from himself, from the world, from _David. _He leaned forward to rest his still-covered eyes on the steering wheel and tried to push back the tears.

“Oh,” Ken said simply, the disappointment evident in his voice. “I see.”

“Yeah,” Patrick replied, thickly. “I just…um, well-…he thought it would be a good idea for me to do this. Because…well, that doesn’t matter. I’m sorry for misleading you, using you,” He trailed off, too overcome with emotion to continue. “You deserve better than that.”

“Mmm,” Ken was still leaning toward the passenger door, putting as much space between them as possible in a small sedan. Patrick hazarded a glance over at him through his fingers, chagrined to see the aloof mask that had settled over Ken’s striking features. It reminded him of David.

_Oh god_.

All of those stories. David’s past lovers. All those times he tried to play off his heartbreak as casual, amusing anecdotes. _The performance artist who dumped him while breastfeeding him in front of an audience. Anderson Cooper in the Seychelles. The douchey photographer who published nudes without consent. _Patrick hated every person that made David feel like he deserved that, couldn’t believe anyone could be so callous.

And yet.

Here he was, doing the same goddamned thing to Ken. Adding one more brick to the wall Ken was building between himself and the world, to protect himself from people like…Patrick.

“I’m so sorry, Ken.” The words even tasted hollow in his mouth; Ken deserved so much better. So did David. They both deserved to be treated with respect.

Not like this.

“Can you just drive me back to my car, please?” Ken’s voice was cool and steady, but Patrick noticed the slight quiver of his bottom lip.

“OK,” Patrick put the car in drive. The next few minutes passed in charged, awkward silence as they drove back to the restaurant.

Ken’s Fiat was the only car left in the parking lot when they arrived. Patrick pulled up next to it, not bothering to stop the ignition. This wouldn’t be a lingering good-bye.

“I…uh, I _am_ sorry,” he started.

“Look, it is what it is, Patrick,” Ken’s voice had a sharpness to it now, one that sliced at Patrick’s insides because he knew _he _put it there. “Have a nice…whatever. See ya.” And just like that, with no further ado, Ken was out of the car, out of his life.

_And thirty minutes ago he had my dick in his mouth. _Patrick couldn’t hold back the tears any more. He cried the whole drive back to Schitt’s Creek.

_What the fuck have I done?_

_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick starts to talk to David about the date with Ken. It doesn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, this has turned into a multichapter angst-fest, but it is what it is.

“Okay, this is a really long hug now,” Patrick wasn’t going to complain about it, not really, because he was safe and secure David’s strong arms.

“Just need one more minute,” David pulled him even closer, sighing into Patrick’s neck, “mhmm.”

This. This is where Patrick belonged. This is where he fit. Right here, wrapped up in his boyfriend’s embrace. He could stay here forever. _Forever_ and _David. _That’s what Patrick wanted. All he wanted. Always. Patrick hummed contentedly and turned his face into the crook of David’s neck, pressing a soft kiss next to his Adam’s apple.

David sighed again and tilted his head back to offer up his throat to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick mouthed a line of wet kisses along the underside of David’s jaw and nuzzled his nose into the short hair behind David’s ear. He closed his eyes and breathed in David’s scent—woodsy with hints of tobacco and citrus, the smell of _home_—and he wanted to hold on to this moment and never let go. _Forever._

“David,” Patrick croaked. “I…uh—” a violent sob choked off his words, and his knees buckled. He would have collapsed onto the floor had David not held him steady. David was good at doing that, at holding strong and firm when Patrick felt himself wavering. God, he loved this man so much.

_What have I done?_

“Shhh, honey,” David ran a soothing palm up Patrick’s back, kissed the top of his head, “it’s ok. I’m here; I’m here.” Patrick struggled to take in a breath. He couldn’t take David’s comforting; he didn’t deserve it. David deserved the world, the moon, the stars; not someone who would take advantage of his kindness, his generosity, his trust, his love.

_Oh god._

“I’m sorry, David,” Patrick whispered. “I shouldn’t have…I’m—,” he hiccuped, still struggling to gasp air into his lungs, “I’m sorry.”

“Patrick?” David was no longer swaying. He still held Patrick tight but his body had gone stiff and still, his voice shrill, and Patrick hated the panic he could hear creeping in. “What’s wrong?”

“I let him…I mean—you told me to…and I wanted to, for you…I—” Patrick tried to start so many times, but couldn’t find the words; nothing was right. He rested his forehead against the top of David’s shoulder, inhaled deeply, inhaled David and hoped it would give him the strength he needed to continue.

Patrick lifted his head and looked at David’s face. Those kind eyes, so full of love, and Patrick couldn’t breathe. He had to get away before he collapsed under the weight of David’s trusting gaze. “Oh god—,” he turned on his heel and ran, barely making it to the toilet in time for the contents of his stomach to make their forceful exit.

When he felt like everything had emptied out, Patrick rested back on his heels, his head lolling miserably on the forearm still draped over the toilet seat. He was shivering even as he felt the sweat trickling down his temples and under his arms.

“Honey?” David stood at the doorway, his voice so tentative. Patrick’s whole body spasmed at the sound, and then he was dry heaving, his face almost inside the bowl as he tasted rancid bile in the back of his throat.

“I’m sorry, David,” he looked over his shoulder through red-rimmed eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

David’s lower lip quivered for just a moment.

Only for a moment, and then…

David knew. _Oh god. _He _knew, _and for the second time that night, Patrick saw it. That aloof mask, the one meant to shield its wearer from heartache, from the pain inflicted by others—by people like _him, _Patrick thought to himself—he saw David’s face transform into something blank and distant.

“I’m sorry,” Patrick whispered.

David tugged idly at the neckline of his sweater, and Patrick knew that was wrong. After nearly two years together, Patrick had learned more than he imagined possible about proper treatment of luxury knits, and to see David stretching out the soft material made his heart drop to his stomach.

David swallowed thickly, like it was hard to do, and it made Patrick ache to see him like that, to know that he was the cause of it. “Well,” David began, unwilling to even look at Patrick now, just staring up at the stained washroom ceiling, “I…uh, I did tell you to…uh—,” and _oh god _he was crying and Patrick wanted to crawl inside the bowl and flush himself away like the piece of shit that he was. “I said you should do it… that you should—” David’s voice broke, and Patrick wanted to die. He let his head droop toward the toilet bowl again, and it barely registered to him that David had walked away until he realized that David was talking again, and he couldn’t tell what he was saying.

Patrick pushed himself up to stand on unsteady legs, and stumbled back into David’s room. David sat at the foot of his bed, arms crossed protectively over his chest, his eyes downcast.

“You…you were safe, right?” David asked meekly, and Patrick’s legs gave out.

_Oh god. What have I done?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They talk and make up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some handwaving here, but dammit, I didn't intend to write an angst-fest so I'm just gonna wave my hand and make it ok, DJL style, y'all.

Some amount of time later—Patrick couldn’t say how long; the silence stretched out like an eternity for him, even if it had only been minutes—Patrick sat on the floor, his back pressed up against the wall, arms wrapped around his knees. The tears had started to dry into crusty streaks on his face.

David was still folded in on himself at the foot of his bed, in a way that made his broad frame somehow seem small. His shoulders sagged toward his knees, his arms crossed as though they could protect his heart from any more pain. He hadn’t looked away from that spot on the floor since Patrick had entered the room, but Patrick could tell from his congested breathing that David was still crying.

“Da—,” Patrick didn’t complete his name because he didn’t know what to say. He just knew he wanted to say or do _something _to comfort his boyfriend. If he even still wanted to be Patrick’s boyfriend. _Oh god_.

“You should get tested,” David muttered, “just in case. Before you see him again. A-and, next time take condoms. You need to protect yourself.”

“David,” Patrick took a deep gulp of air into his lungs, and started to crawl, slowly, toward the bed. “I don’t want to see him again. I don’t want to see anyone else.” David choked out something that sounded like a sob, or maybe a laugh, and it made Patrick stop in his tracks.

“Did you decide that before or after you fucked him?” David’s voice was still small and broken, but it had a harshness to it that Patrick had never encountered. David’s beautiful, delicate voice grown hard and cold.

He sounded like his mother, Patrick realized with a start. The way she talked to anyone who wasn’t a Rose.

Patrick felt the tears coming back, and no amount of blinking in the world could hold them back. “It was a mistake, David,” his voice was raw with emotion, “I got caught up in the moment, and I know now _absolutely _that I don’t want that. With anyone else.” He hadn’t even realized that he was moving closer toward David as he spoke, but now Patrick was right there, kneeling in front of him and desperately wanting to hold him.

“David, please…” Patrick didn’t know what he was even asking; he just knew that the answer was David; the answer would always be David and he needed to show David that. Somehow.

Patrick reached a hand toward David’s shoulder, but stopped just shy of making contact, afraid that seeing David recoil would break him. “David, can I touch you, please?” Patrick murmured.

David said nothing. Patrick saw his body trembling as he cried.

“David, please?”

He knelt there for eternities, waiting for David to respond.

“I wish I hadn’t done it,” David whispered. “It’s my mistake.”

Patrick wanted to pull him in and kiss the tears away.

“I love you, David. You know I love you, right?”

A choked sob escaped David’s throat as he pulled his knees up toward his chest, then tucked his head in.

_Oh god._

David had put his feet on his bed without removing his Uggs.

Patrick crumpled into a heap on the floor. That was too much.

“David, I’m so sorry. I love you. Please, can we…do you think…d-do you even want to—,” he hiccuped and stuttered, unable to vocalize the thoughts, afraid that even saying the words aloud would somehow call them into being. He couldn’t say the words. He wouldn’t give voice to his greatest fear.

“I love you, too,” David said. “I’m sorry I’m not ok.” His head was still tucked into his arms, his whole body shaking, and Patrick wanted to hold him so badly. He reached a shaky hand toward David, brought to rest ever so lightly on his upper back. David shuddered at his touch, but didn’t move away. Patrick just let his hand rest there, unmoving. As he felt David’s breathing settle into a slower, steadier pattern, Patrick let go of the breath he had been holding for what seemed like a thousand years. He let his palm slide in tentative circles on David’s back.

“David, sweetheart,” Patrick was begging; he knew he was begging and didn’t deserve to have David even _look_ at him again, let alone touch him, but he needed it. He needed to hold David and look into those deep brown eyes and kiss the tears away from his cheeks, to somehow somehow _somehow _make things ok for David again, even if he had to break his own heart to do it. As he continued stroking circles on David’s back, Patrick brought the index finger of his free hand underneath his chin and gently guided it up. He heaved another sigh of relief as David let Patrick do it, let himself be guided to bring his gaze up.

And what Patrick saw when David looked him in the eye shattered his heart into pieces.

Patrick remembered the day David had called himself _damaged goods_, the way David had looked so broken as he asked for time apart. That day Patrick had vowed that, if he was lucky enough to win David’s trust back, he would spend the rest of his goddamned life making sure David never felt that again.

And yet, here he was, staring into the fucking abyss, David’s warm, soft eyes utterly destroyed. And it was all because of him. Was this damage irrevocable? What if this was it?

_The performance artist in Brooklyn._

_The douchebag photographer in Buenos Ares._

_The asshole business partner in Schitt’s Creek._

“I only want to be with you, David,” Patrick forced himself to look into those beautiful, broken eyes as he spoke, hoping that David would feel the weight of his truth. “Only you, David.” His lips were quivering, his eyes filled with tears, but it didn’t matter; nothing mattered except getting the man before him to listen to him, to believe him. “Please don’t leave me.”

David sobbed, brought his hands up to cover his face as he shook his head. “You say that now…” his voice trailed off after a particularly brutal hiccup.

“And I will mean it always,” Patrick was adamant. “You’re mine, David,” he lowered his voice, “and I only want to be _yours_. Please.”

David sniffled and dropped his hands into his lap. “C-can you forgive me?” he asked, his voice only slightly louder than a whisper.

“Forgive _you_? For what?” Patrick asked, incredulous.

“F-for sending you out, a-and for not b-being ok with it, f-for the whole s-situation,” David cried helplessly. Patrick brought his hands to rest on either side of David’s face, and looked, disbelieving, into his sorrowful eyes.

“Don’t apologize, love,” Patrick pressed a delicate kiss to the tip of David’s nose, “I understand what you were trying to do. I’m just sorry it took me half of a blowjob to realize it.” He feathered several more kisses along David’s forehead before noticing that David was looking at him oddly.

“Wait…what?” David’s eyes narrowed, and Patrick’s stomach dropped. He pulled himself away from David and looked down to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned specifics.”

“But—only _half _of a blowjob? Like, you stopped in the middle?”

Patrick’s cheeks flushed with shame, and he couldn’t bring himself to look David in the eye. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Seriously, Patrick,” David insisted, “you stopped before you finished? Or before he did?”

“David,” Patrick rubbed the back of his neck, the tops of his ears turning crimson with heat. “He was…uh, you know,” he awkwardly smacked his hands together, palm to fist, “to me. And I stopped.”

“So you didn’t finish?”

Patrick was mortified and ashamed and wished David would stop poking at the bruise, but at the same time, David was _talking _to him and not crying any more and his eyes weren’t looking quite so shattered and maybe Patrick would be ok with being mortified if it kept David talking to him.

“No, I didn’t.”

“You ended a blowjob without coming because,” David looked thoughtful, like he was tasting the words he spoke before letting them leave his mouth, “you didn’t want to be with him?”

“Yes.”

“Was it because he was _bad _at it?” _Holy fuck. _Patrick saw the tiniest quirk at the corner of David’s lips. He let himself dare to hope. Maybe they would be able to work through this. _Please let us work through this._

“No, David.” Patrick managed to huff out, in embarrassed annoyance.

“Was he better than _me_?” And there it was, no hiding it now. That was _definitely _the beginning of a smile.

“No, David,” Patrick rolled his eyes, his face a picture of fond affection, and as he did, David wrapped those strong arms around Patrick’s shoulders. Patrick melted into the touch, and suddenly every part of his body was trembling.

“God, David,” he gasped as he wound his arms around David’s waist, and let himself be pulled up and onto the bed. Soon, they were a tangle of limbs as they held each other tight and pressed their foreheads together, crying and panting against each other’s mouths.

“So, can we agree that this was a really stupid move on both our parts?” David asked.

“The stupidest,” Patrick kissed the tip ofDavid’s nose in assent. “I only want you, David Rose.”

“I only want you, Patrick Brewer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, happy 5 monthiversary of fic-writing to me.


End file.
